Dangerous Games Ch. 01

"If he had told you to suck his cock, you would have done it right? You would have sucked his cock and swallowed his cum?"

"Yes...I would have sucked him off and swallowed it all--if he had asked me to."

A loud moan escaped his lips as Johnny's excitement became evident. I smiled in the darkness: this boy loved pleasing men...he would be providing me with many-many orgasms for months to come (so to speak).

I reached over and squeezed his erection thru the jeans. He moaned and didn't stop me. I slowly moved my hand up-and-down his small shaft.

"How many times a day do you masturbate?" I asked him.

"Oh, uh...once in the morning and just before I go to bed at night," he whispered.

"Tell me the truth, Johnny--how many times do you masturbate every day?"

"I ah, don't really know...maybe five-six times a day...when I get a chance to do it."

"Do you look at porn when you play with yourself?"

"I—uh, yes...I have porn on my computer."

"Is it gay porn, Johnny? Do you like to look at pictures of men having sex with other men?"

"No-no-no...I couldn't have that on my computer--somebody might find out..."

"What do you look at? What gets you excited, Johnny?"

"No, uh, I can't say--it isn't right!"

"You must tell me the truth, Johnny...I will never say a word to anyone about what you tell me--what do you look at when you masturbate--what do you think about?"

This was going to be the most difficult thing for him to admit. I stroked his tiny cock harder and faster. He did the same for me.

"Sometimes I stare at pictures of women on their knees with hard penises in their mouths...I, uh..."

"Yes, you what? What are you thinking when you look at those pictures?"

"I, uh--I imagine it's me on my knees doing those things for men..."

"You mean you picture yourself kneeling before a man, giving him pleasure with your lips and tongue, sucking his cock--is that correct?"

He hesitated then the words spilled out of him.

"YES--I fantasize it's me sucking his cock--stroking his shaft--licking his flesh--fondling balls--trying to make him cum in my mouth!"

"Good boy, Johnny... and what else do you fantasize about? You know you can trust me--you can always tell me the truth!"

"I look at pictures of women bending over for men standing behind them..."

"You imagine yourself bending over for men, don't you? You think about the time the man had you on the bed--had the head of his cock inside you...you regret not letting him fuck you, don't you? You want to know what it's like to have a hard cock in your pussy--you want to feel a man shoot his cum inside your pussy, don't you Johnny"?

"Oh God--I'm going to hell--yes, I want to have a man fuck me--yes, I want to get on my knees and suck cock...oh God--oh God..."

"Do it for me now, Johnny--get on your knees and take my cock in your mouth--you're going to love it, Johnny--you were born to give men pleasure!"

"Oh God, I can't—I just can't do it--my father will kill me!"

"He'll never find out, Johnny, I won't say a word to him—I promise!"

"Nooooo--he'll know--he'll find out and kill me! I'm sorry--I can't do it!"

I was getting close. I concentrated on his talented hand--I would use his mouth tomorrow night.

Both of our hands moved up-and-down in rhythm. I felt the churning in my balls; I squeezed his prick and stroked it faster. We both cried out at the same time. The bed bounced as our bodies shook with pleasure.

His wonderful hand forced four-five strong loads of cum from my balls. I felt the wetness on the front of his jeans as he came in his pants. I forced my mouth on his and he didn't resist as I kissed him hard. He even opened his lips and allowed my tongue inside.

I hugged him close to me while we waited for our shaking bodies to return to normal. I gave his cheek one final kiss, fixed my clothes and left him sitting on the edge of the bed in total darkness.

I had given him something to think about--I was sure he'd fantasize about my cock and masturbate before he could fall asleep.

He may not remember opening up to me, but I now had enough ammunition to jar his memory, make him wonder how I knew all these personal things about him. Plus, our entire conversation had been tape-recorded. He wouldn't be able to deny what he'd told me.

I made arrangements with four of my tenets to meet me at 'Rods' at 5:30. Oh, by-the-way, I own an 'adults-only' apartment complex, and everyone who lives there is either gay or lesbian, but more on that later...

I'd given my friends $200 to spend with just one caveat: they'd each shoot pool twice with Johnny, and intentionally lose to him.

Johnny came into the bar five-minutes early and found me sitting in 'our' booth. I had a drink waiting for him.

"I had fun last night, did you?" I asked him. I searched his eyes for any sign of understanding, or comprehension of his actions the previous evening, but he appeared clueless.

"Ah, yeah, I had fun too," he answered. I imagined that was his standard reply when asked about something he couldn't remember.

We talked and laughed, and he seemed more comfortable with me than the day before.

After his third drink, he surprised me by asking if he could play pool. I smiled to myself that his cocky demeanor hadn't reared its ugly head thus far.

I pointed at the table where my friends were playing, and said, "I think you can beat those guys--I've been watching and they're not very good."

He placed his quarter on their table then went and bought us two more drinks.

If everything went according to plan, Johnny would 'win' eight-straight games before I played him. I was trying to time it for him to be on his seventh drink when he and I played.

After his fifth drink, and he'd won five games-in-a-row, I moved our drinks to the tall table near where he was playing. Between shots, he would stand close to me gulping his drink.

His cocky and annoying attitude came to the surface. He made disparaging comments after each missed shot by his opponents. My friends took it all in stride. They would get their satisfaction when they saw Johnny under my control.

I began stroking his back, and when my hand dipped lower and caressed his buttocks his body jerked forward to escape the personal touching.

"What's wrong, sweetie, you enjoyed it last night?" I asked softly. I loved watching his face turn a deep red.

I was expecting him to make a scene, but all he said was "I don't know what you're talking about..."

"Let me refresh your memory," I said, "...you lost a bet to me—we went to your motel room and you opened my pants—took out my cock—and masturbated me until I came--in fact, I played with your prick and you shot a nice load in your jeans--when you woke-up this morning, you had quite a mess in your briefs, didn't you?"

He suddenly had the look of a deer caught in headlights. His face turned an ashen gray.

"Johnny, you're not fooling me...as-a-matter-of-fact, you told me all about your late-night visits to Loring Park, and what you did for the men you met there...sweetie, you're a talented boy, you give one helluva a handjob--that's nothing to be ashamed about...Johnny, don't worry, I will never tell your father, okay?"

The look of sheer, unmitigated fear and panic that spread across his pretty face almost made me feel sorry for him, but I had to concentrate on the plan at hand.

I repeated, "I will never tell your dad what kind of boy you are, okay?"

"I'm not ANY kind of boy!" he said sharply to me.

I chuckled and said, "We'll see..." I'd successfully planted seeds of doubt in his head. He knew the only way I could know about Loring Park was that he had to have told me.

He returned to his game and between shots would take a quick gulp from his drink then move away from me.

I bought him another drink before it was my turn to play him. His skills were quickly deteriorating, and I actually had to concentrate hard just to lose to him.

When he slammed the eight-ball into the corner pocket to beat me, he triumphantly said loudly, "Who's my next victim?"

I paid him five-dollars then said, "Five bucks is nothing! Why don't we make this interesting?"

"Whaddya wanna do?" he said, slightly slurring the words.

He and I were alone, my friends had moved to another section of the bar. As I stared into the blankness of his watery eyes, I decided it was time to make my move.

"How much money do you have in your wallet?" I asked him.

He sputtered, "Well, uh, I..."

"How much?" I asked again.

"F-Four hundred," he replied.

"Okay," I said. I pulled out my wallet, removed four hundred-dollar-bills and placed them on the table. His eyes grew wide.

"Well," I said, "show me the money!"

He hesitated then said meekly, "I can't--It's all I have left."

"What's wrong? I thought you were a gambler...you're not very good, are you?" I taunted him.

"I can beat you any time I want, old man!" he snarled then immediately pulled out his wallet and removed the last of his hundred dollar-bills. A five and a few singles were all that remained.

I decided to give him a few chances before I beat him. His game was sloppy now, and I knew he didn't have a prayer of winning.

When it was his turn, he made three-balls-in-a-row then tried a difficult bank-shot. He missed it badly, hitting it too hard, and the cue ball bounced-off two cushions before solidly striking the eight-ball sending it into a side pocket.

He scratched on the eight-ball--he lost the game. He watched me take the money and stuff it into my pocket. The look of horror on his face was priceless.

"It's not fair--you didn't win--I scratched on the eight--it's not fair!" he whined.

I responded, "You know the rules of the game--I won fair-and-square!"

He was silent for several seconds then he provided me with the perfect opening by saying, "I'm broke--what do I do now?"

I placed my arm around his shoulders, he didn't flinch or move away from me.

"I'll tell you what I'll do," I said with all the sincerity I could muster, "we'll play one more game...if you win, I'll not only give you back your four-hundred, but I'll pay you an additional five-hundred dollars! That's nine-hundred dollars! How does that sound to you?"

In his condition, I could have said I'd give him a million-dollars--it wouldn't have made a difference.

His eyes opened wide and flashed a glimmer of hope. Then just as suddenly, he dejectedly asked me, "what if I lose? I don't have any money to pay you?"

I gave him my friendliest smile and softly said, "You will provide me with sex.

That beautiful red flush covered his face again.

"I'm not queer--I can't do that!" he said matter-of-factly with no sign of anger.

"Sweetie, I don't care if you're queer or not queer, you gave me a wonderful handjob last night and now I want to feel those pretty lips of yours wrapped around my prick!" I said.

"You're lying," he said defiantly. "I would never do a thing like that!"

"You told me all about yourself, too...how else would I know about 'Loring Park' and the handjobs you gave to different men? How else would I know you allowed a strange man to grease-up your asshole while you knelt on all-fours on his bed waiting for him to fuck you?"

"How do you know about all that?" he asked in a stunned whisper. An even deeper shade of red appeared on his face. I saw a couple teardrops roll down his cheek. "I had to do some things for men...I was forced to."

This was no time to quibble with him. We were at a critical juncture in my plan and I couldn't tolerate needless distractions.

"Johnny," I said, holding his shoulders and forcing him to look into my eyes. "Do you accept the wager?"

He held my stare and said, "Well, I guess I have to--I don't have any other choice!"

"Yes, you have choices, John...you can go back to your room, get a good night's sleep then call your father in the morning and ask him for money to get you home--you always have choices," I said emphasizing my last point.

His eyes grew wide then he angrily said, "Oh alright--I'll take the bet!"

"Since I'm risking nine-hundred dollars and won't get any money in return, there a couple more conditions you have to agree to," I said then calmly explained: "First, the light in the room stays on--I want to be able to see your pretty face...second, we're going to get naked--I want to feel your soft skin against me...and lastly, we're going to hug and kiss and you will sexually satisfy me until I say we're done."

There was that deer-caught-in-the-headlights look in his eyes again. I knew a fierce battle was taking place in his mind between guilt and shame versus his secret lust and desire for men.

I took his hand and forced it against my semi-erection. I heard him gasp, but he didn't pull away.

I whispered in his ear: "When you lose the bet, we're going to your room and you will suck my cock until you've swallowed every drop of cum I have in my balls!"

I boldly reached between us and cupped his crotch. His tiny dick was stiff as steel. He neither pushed my hand from him, nor pulled his hand from me.

"You're a very sweet boy," I said softly. "I like you a lot...I have a feeling you'll have fun tonight regardless if you win or lose the game...now go rack the balls and let's shoot some pool!"

I was overcome with a warm glow as I watched him submissively obey me. He never once objected to my added conditions to the wager.

I smiled as I watched him bending over, racking the balls. He's a good boy at heart, I thought to myself. All he needs is guidance, and some sexual training, and he is going to make a wonderful bitch boy.

I made two stripes on the break and two more before I missed. His cocky arrogance was gone. Even in his inebriated condition, he knew this was the most important game of pool he'd played in his young life.

He studied the table, made two balls then missed. I intentionally missed and when he bent over to line up his next shot, I casually stood next to him, reached down and gently stroked his buttocks.

"Sweetie," I said softly, "...you have to decide what is important in your life--what do you want more? Win a pool game for money, or spend the night in bed satisfying a man who wants and desires you?"

I left him alone and when he missed the shot, I cupped his crotch, squeezed his hard dick and whispered to him, "Good boy."

I surveyed the table and saw the balls were in favorable positions. I could easily run the table and end the game. I methodically went to work studying each shot, and deciding where to 'leave' the cue ball to make the next shot.

From time-to-time I looked at Johnny; his face and eyes gave away the hopeless desperation he was feeling. He knew he was going to lose and there was nothing he could do about it.

When I rammed the eight-ball into the corner pocket, he stood motionless, staring at the cue ball inches from the pocket. I took the cue stick from his trembling hands and placed it in the rack.

"C'mon sweetie," I said, "...let's go to your room."

"C-Can we have another drinky first?" he asked in a small voice.

"No," I said firmly. "I want to see you naked...I want to feel your tongue on my cock!"

My crude words made him visibly shiver. The expression on his face told me he found the idea repugnant, but the bulge in his crotch told another story.

Whether he knew it or not, this very moment in time was his last as an independent, free-spirited boy. Beginning tomorrow, he would always be someone's bitch boy--first mine--then probably Ernie's--and after that, who knows?

I made no pretense now. I led Johnny out of the bar with my hand firmly on his ass. I winked at my tenets who were still sitting at a table. They all raised their glasses in a salute to me.

Once outside, I pulled Johnny into the first darkened entryway and pulled him close to me. I held his head in my hands and kissed him hard on the lips.

"No-no-no..." he protested and tried to back away from me, but I was too strong for him.

"Never pull away from me--when I want to kiss—you will kiss--do you understand me, boy?"

I felt him shiver again. His voice was meek. "I—uh, yes Tommy."

"Yes what, boy?"

"I—I w-won't pull away from you when you want to kiss me."

I patted his head and said, "Good boy."

His lips were soft and moist when I kissed him again. He kissed me back. God, I thought, I'm going to love training this boy! We began walking again.

"Tell me again why you left Minnesota," I suddenly asked him.

"I--uh, just wanted to move to warm weather...I was tired of the cold...my life was getting boring--I wanted something new..."

I didn't believe him, but I wasn't going to press the issue now. My dick was bursting at my zipper, desperate to be freed. We would have plenty of conversations and I would eventually get the truth out of him.

Once inside his room, I sat on the bed and removed my shoes and socks. Johnny just stood there looking at me.

"Get your clothes off, boy, it's time to pay your debt," I said with a slight smile.

"C-Can't we turn the lights off?" he asked.

"NO--you know what the bet was--STRIP!" I said forcefully.

I awoke before Johnny to make sure the tapes were queued properly when I showed them to the boy. I was curious what his reaction would be when he awoke and found him and I naked together in bed.

I played with the remote, arranging the tapes in the order I wanted to show them. I then lay back and watched the big screen television in the near corner of the room.

I'd had the boy suck me off three times before I allowed him to sleep, and much to my pleasant surprise, he was quite good at it. Like the handjobs before, he had obviously pleasured men with his mouth, as well.

I wondered why he refused to acknowledge sucking cock, especially after admitting he had allowed a strange man to lube his asshole, and stick the head of his prick inside him. I would find out in due time.

I fast-forwarded the tape to a crucial scene and turned-up the volume. I was standing before a mirror, and Johnny was on his knees.

"OH YES, JOHNNY--SUCK MY COCK! YOU ARE A WONDERFUL COCKSUCKER...RUB MY BALLS, BABY--YES--THAT'S IT! SUCK MY COCK FASTER, SWEETIE, I'M GOING TO CUM IN YOUR MOUTH--OH GOD, YES—YES—YES--HERE IT COMES, BABY--SWALLOW IT ALL, SWEETIE--THAT'S IT--KEEP SWALLOWING, JOHNNY--KEEP SWALLOWING!!"

Johnny jerked upright next to me. Hair disheveled; eyes bugged-open wide. He looked at the screen then to me.

"WHAT THE HELL? GET OUT OF MY BED! WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE? GET OUT--GET OUT!!"

"Quiet, boy," I said. "Watch the television..."

I re-wound the tape and played the scene again. I studied his face. Pure shock and horror; he was purple with anger and rage.

"THIS IS WRONG!" he shouted. "WHAT DID YOU DO TO ME?"

"Sweetie, you didn't do anything you didn't want to do...in fact, you loved every minute of it!"

"NO WAY--I WOULD NEVER LIKE IT!!"

I fast-forwarded the tape again. This time, I was lying on the bed and Johnny was kneeling between my wide-split legs. Only my cock and legs, and his entire body were visible in the scene.

His head was busy bobbing up-and-down my cock while he stroked the shaft and massaged my balls. Loud, slurping noises came from his mouth.

Next to me, Johnny uttered an anguished cry of "No-no-no--please no...please turn it off..."

He was hiding his face with his hands. He couldn't bear to watch.

"Johnny, watch the tv--WATCH THE TELEVISION, BOY!" I ordered.

When he lowered his hands I saw tears in his eyes and on his cheeks. He dully stared at the images on the screen.

My voice could be heard in the background.

"Johnny, you are one sweet cocksucker...you love it too--I can see your hard, little dick standing straight-out...do you want to cum for me, sweetie? Say the words and I'll let you cum, baby--tell me what I want to hear, Johnny!"